My Experience with the Mirena Coil*
How many awareness months does it take to make sure people realise Endometriosis impacts as many people as diabetes and asthma? 170 million people and counting. Let’s hope it’s not that many months…
After 4 years of actively taking part in various awareness months and days, I have yet to realise what they achieve. I could take this time to list more facts and figures, but in my experience, it is telling stories that really raise awareness. So…
*The Mirena Coil is a hormonal IUD used for birth control and treating certain conditions. And also, if you’re me, torture…
30 Seconds
30 seconds.
30 seconds of pain.
That is what they told me,
‘it’s a quick insertion.’
30 seconds turned into 2 minutes which turned into 5, and after having only moments to berate myself for not being more anxious in the lead up to this, after promising the medical professionals surrounding me I am not a screamer, 5 minutes turns into 2 hours.
I think I screamed for a large part of it. I wish I could say I don’t remember. I know pain, and I am brave. You can trust me on this because
1 I live in constant, chronic pain
2 I have had operations, and painkillers don’t work for me
3 I have lost people. Many people, people who I loved.
I am brave and I am not a screamer.
I know this because sometimes, when I am alone in my room, when I have just woken up and something has subluxed, I scream. Sometimes, I worry my mother because I couldn’t get to it in time, couldn’t stay on top of it. From toothache to ulcers to heartbreak to grief, from headaches and stubbed toes to seizures and losing my belief, there are many, many kinds of pain.
But that is irrelevant. What counts here is the level. And the level of the mirena coil was the worst pain I have ever experienced. I know this because at a certain point, like when you have had seizures for a week straight or back pain for a month, so bad you can’t move, when a foreign device is inserted and causes uterine contractions, pain isn’t just something you feel, it is something you are. Something you become. It replaces you. And even though you are not a screamer, you scream.
And it bursts the skin of your belly button.
Your poor, poor belly button, the one you hate thinking about let alone touching, the one that has two laparoscopy scars adorning it?
It splits, and then it gets infected, and then you are sitting with your niece, praying she will never have to go through anything like this, and wondering how 30 seconds became a week.
But wait! There’s more! Hives. Hives, glorious hives, swarming around my stomach. A reaction to the endless cycle of ice packs? Probably. Until they get worse… and worse. And before you know it you’re being treated for shingles.
‘So avoiding stress is the only thing I could have done to avoid this?’
you ask the pharmacist
‘yeah’
So the stress of the mirena. The 30 seconds becomes a whole-ass virus. But wait! They were wrong!
After completing the round of anti-virals, it is in fact apparent that it is not shingles. It is my own special cocktail of who-knows-what. Most likely a hormonal allergic reaction triggered by the coil? And I am still itchy writing this now… (editor’s note, 3 months later: I suspect the coil triggered an MCAS allergy reaction. I am on strength anti-histamines and if this has happened to you please ask your GP to describe them ASAP!)
It was only meant to be 30 seconds.
All this is to say… procedures which could have a detrimental impact to one’s health, especially if one has complex pre-existing conditions, should come with consent forms that properly inform the patient of potential side effects. Yes, it’s rare. But rare people exist. It’s me. Hi!
